Because is Not a Reason

Had to steal this from Jim Zeilinski's Facebook page.
To give credit where it's due, he stole it off of Dave Hart's page.

No matter how outlandish, you've got to believe in something, or else all is naught and existence dissolves.

At least believe in second helpings.

Another Walk

Perfect day for a noontime walk.

One of the neighbors had the sprinkler going.  It was barely 50 degrees outside.  Why, oh, why?  Must have been some winter grass, it was a stand-out green.  Wonder how it will handle the next round of frost tonight. But it did make tiny rainbows.

With all of the trees now bare, I had a excellent view of the lush tussies of jade mistletoe, its every bough heavy with the pearls of berries.   Makes me wonder:   if people are so keen to affix a desiccated sample to a doorway during the holidays for the sole purpose of stealing a kiss,  why are not masses of people heavily smooching beneath oak trees crowned with the most vibrant of specimens?    I might need to start a reform campaign.

I went northward on the newest Greenway section.  I walked only as far as the bridge over Aldridge Creek to St. Stephen's Episcopalian Church.   The flowing water was warmer than the weather belied.   Shoals of minnows crowded facing upstream in the currents.   I say minnows, but they could have been fingerling trout for all I knew. One was at least six inches long, bossy and speckled brown.

Crickets chirp on the far bank, winged nymphs dart from bamboo.

Not a turtle or frog to be spied. All good amphibians gone to brumate.

Birds.  There were birds!  Two hawks emerged from the tree line, wheeling about each other, for a moment.  The red cedar was filled with blue drupes and the usual quarrels of starlings.  Robins dug and barked in the leaf litter.  My eyes could barely catch the running stitch of finches in the reeds.  As I headed back to the south, a sight caught my eyes-- a solitary heron upon a rock and framed by the trees of the creekside classroom trail.

The sun was bright, the wind was light, the deeper waters scintillated and sparkled. I paused, allowing my mind to be born off and returned.

Despite nature's surround, the man-made, manipulated, still abounded.  Pumpkins waited in uncharacteristic aquatic patches. Below the Hobbs Road bridge lay a computer monitor, the CRT kind.

Nurture does affect nature.  Witness: this short pine, who had to compete with its fraternal twin lightpost.

While nature always affects the nurture.  I will return to this corner and collect more windfall hickory nuts and learn to open then.

Providence provides a banquet for the senses.

All we must do is receive.

Cooking Something New

Remember those "Low Country Cookies" I mentioned in "The Wrap"?

I gave them a try, and my women's group really liked them. Like me, they were all amazed that the filling had coconut-- all except Barbara W. who said she noticed it right away. ("Oh, I'm sorry. that's a bad thing, " says Christi; "No, no! I like coconut, that's why I noticed it." Well OK, then, it's all good.)

I should have made them a day ahead of time, and let them set over night. I also should have gone with my instincts and lined it with individual cracker rectangles since I was making it of a morning. (Also decided to add vanilla to the filling; might ought to have stirred that in with the coconut, but it's only because I'm worried it might have interfered with the soft set.) If you use mini chocolate chips instead of chopped pecans, definitely sprinkle them on top (hot mix, got it?) I also wasn't sure if non-canned coconut would be acceptable, but since I couldn't find canned coconut, I used a bag of coconut pulverized up with a can of coconut milk-- worked well.

If I'm going to talk about it, I guess I'd better share.

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Low Country Cookies


Ingredients:
Cookie part
1 (16 oz) box graham crackers
reserve about 13 -15 to create cookie
crush enough to create 1 cup crumbs

Filling
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1/2 cup milk
1 cup chopped pecans
1 cup shredded coconut (or three 1/2 ounce cans)

Topping
2 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) butter
3 tablespoons milk


Line the bottom of a  13x9-inch pan with whole graham crackers.

Melt the butter in a saucepan and add sugar. In a separate bowl, beat the egg and milk together, then add to butter mixture. Bring to a boil while stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Add nuts, coconut and graham cracker crumbs. Spread over the crackers in the pan. Top with another layer of whole graham crackers.

To make the topping, beat all of the ingredients together and spread over top layer of crackers.

Chill until filling is firm and then cut into squares.

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Yep. Coconut that escapes all but the most discriminating palates.
Bring on the yum.

Prop-erly

As I've mentioned before, I "do" community theater because I get to be creative.  Some of my handiwork from two of the latest shows:

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This is "mom's work space."  No kids or husband allowed.

 The big trunk o'props. More rehearsals=more stuff.

When your space is limited backstage,

a "props shelf" is better than a "props table."

A jug.  A jug of whatever you want it to be.  For "Frankenstein," it was first water, then wine.  I assembled it for "The Women" seven years ago; the handle was severely broken and it had no cork, but the price at the antiques booth was right.  A good condition jug was about $60. This one was about $15, not including $3 in supplies from Dollar Tree (supplies of which left me with extras.)  Not bad for a jug of "hooch."

This is a "crash box," believe it or not. In the second scene of "Frankenstein," the servant Fritz brings in a tray of tea before he is physically upbraided by his master Victor.  I hadn't been paying attention to the pantomime accompanying the dialog/blocking, so when given a tray, "Fritz" startled me by dropping it.  Made character sense, but I wasn't expecting it.  SO, those two china cups & saucers? Nix. And forget a teapot with liquid. Back to the drawing board. Came up with some plastic "coffee cups" from Party City that I sprayed a flat silver, a large metal potpourri holder that I also sprayed to resemble a sugar bowl, a smaller metal tray to set the bowl on, three teaspoons, and one "napkin" for "cleaning up."  Yep, it made a racket. We only lost two small chips out of one cup.  That's some sturdy party ware!

I'm proud of this. We needed candles that looked real, wouldn't break and wouldn't catch anything on fire. Being a pack-rat paid off. I have saved the heavy "cardboard" center rolls from my Costco plastic & foil wraps. They're too heavy for cardboard, but I don't think they're true pressboard tubes, either, even though I required a small saw to cut them down to size. I cut two short "candles" from one tube, making sure each had a machine-cut end for a base and my own crooked cut for a "melted" top. A battery-powered tea light fit inside each tube. I used a glue gun to create wax drips on the outside and an interior rim for the candle to rest upon. Then I painted the whole thing white to match the tea-light. To help the "candles" to stay put on their holders, I added a dixie-cup inside for packing material. Turned out well, and at about 50¢ each, we could afford to break a tea-light. Not that you can break an LED, but why tempt Fate?

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The props table space says what it is, but not how & why. This is from "It's a Wonderful Life." Brenda had already acquired all of the props she could find available from the Theatre Huntsville building. A few still had to be acquired or made, like this one for the maid Annie who gladly pitched in to help the Baileys in their time of need, "I was saving this for my divorce, if I ever got married." Since Marcie, who was playing the character, was about seven months pregnant, and feeling it, I didn't want her to carry a real & heavy jar of coins (which begs to be stolen, broken or filched for the coke machine.) I always have an empty Classico jar around, and toy coins aren't very expensive. To add some realism, I got some gold-foil chocolate coins which would be about the size of the gold coins of the day. Boy, did all the kids beg to have just one candy!

This is the "it's a miracle" basket of money. Brenda had found a peach basket and some bubble wrap to fill the bottom, while her husband, who coincidentally played Uncle Billy who loses the money, used their printer to "make" money for this basket and other scenes that needed folding money. To give it realism, I found some green felt and glue-gunned it over the bubble wrap and around the edges. I then bought some pale green paper & cut it to the size of the fake bills, and glued to them to cover the felt. On top of that I glued my allotment of fake bills. With everything thus glued down, they would not fall out of the basket, no matter how it was carried or put down. It would also be easier to remove the individual "donations" put there in the closing scene. I made sure the papers & bills were folded/crumpled to seem randomly thrown in. Brenda said the basket looked good. She would sit out in the audience every night for a few scenes (especially the ones her husband was in,) and she told me that no matter where she sat, THAT looked like a basket full of money.

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Fun stuff, isn't it? And you couldn't pay me to do it.

Somewhere in Between

Hi there.  Again.

It's, well, "been" around here.  Trying to regain ground after wrapping up a theatrical production.  Which finds me trying to play catch-up with the blog to make it for the month.

Halloween decorations have been boxed up, Thanksgiving meal has been eaten, and Christmas has not had its holly hauled out yet.

I find myself in this place:

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Halfway Down

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn't any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up,
And isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
"It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead!"

                    -- A.A. Milne


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Join me?

On the Wall (which is better than going UP it)

One of the nicer things about having kids is that you always have "folk art" available for your walls.  (And if it's applied directly to the walls, there's always Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser.)

Here's a sample from this week.

DLG is very thrilled and proud that she gets to use water paints at school (since Mommy is mean and doesn't let her paint at home anytime she wants.)  So, in keeping with their Pre-school study of the color brown and with the approaching holiday, here is her Gingerbread Man:

(So there's no brown. The girl likes the decorated-with-candy part.)

MLB assembled this in his S.P.A.C.E. class.  (It's a gifted enrichment program, whose acronym means "Special Programs for Academic and Creative Excellence.")  He is obviously picking up some good habits from me.  He told me that he was supposed to use 13 pieces to create a picture, but he used 14 instead.  From my habit of reusing scraps and re-purposing leftovers and cast-offs, he used the piece from which he cut out the circles.  PLANNED to use it by not cutting in from the outside which left the borders unbroken.  May I present, "Rocketship with Portholes."

Yep, a better way to look at the walls.

Sing Hallelujah!

In one week Scott is going to have the time of his life.

The Huntsville Community Chorus Association, in conjunction with the Huntsville Youth Orchestra, will be presenting, as the meat of their Christmas concert, Handel's Messiah: Part 1 with the "Hallelujah Chorus." This is the piece of music that says "classical" to him. In his own words:

"When I was a child I looked through my parents' record collection and found a bright red box that stood out from the other albums. In huge letters at the top: "MESSIAH". It was one of my earliest classical music experiences and I've never tired of it since. This Friday night I'll be amongst the HCCA as we and the Huntsville Youth Orchestra perform the Christmas version. I hope to see you there!"

In the years past, he's enjoyed participating in the annual Messiah Sing-a-long hosted by Weatherly Baptist Church. He has his own libretto. To rehearse and prepare, he listens to his CD in the car. This year, he's preparing to be a part of something bigger than even that.

I cannot wait to hear the concert.

Here's some links for the curious: a Facebook Event Page, and the HCCA's own page.

I hope to see you there, too.

When in a Rush...

Go with something easy & post more of your son's computer art work!

"A Stormy Day"

"mfkfkmfkmfg(jfnjfvcvn[jcjcvjnbjnnhc{fmfcfnc}vmvmvmvm]vkgkgfmfmf)mjcvmnvnvn"

Silliness & nonsense can be his strong suit. Informally we'll call this

"Morning BEFORE Coffee"

"judjfdjhfhfhrfhhfjhfdhfdhdf784enbdndhbedhn"

And how about 

"3pt Falls Apart"

(Not life around here, really. Well, maybe "Morning BEFORE Coffee.")

Just These Sort of Thoughts

Sunday now. Well, that's done.  On to what's next.

Or in the words of William Wordsworth from his "The Prelude: Book I"


     "Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows
Like harmony in music;  there is a dark
Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements, makes them cling together
In one society.  How strange that all
The terrors, pains, and early miseries,
Regrets, vexations, lassitudes inferfused
Within my mind, should e're have born a part,
And that a needful part, in making up
The calm existence that is mine when I
Am worthy of myself!"

All in all-- me, myself, am I.

A Wrap

The show closed tonight.  As final days go, it was extraordinary.  We all arrived for our early call; some early, some on time, some late, none rushed or irate, most not thinking about the parting sorrow later.  For once, we had to find someone with a key to open some rooms.  And no one was put out.

Props were set, set was propped.  Hair and make-up were applied, for the last time for most.  Now was not the time to pre-plan for load-out. We had a 2 p.m. show, and the audience deserved our best.

Our best was there.  The littlest Holland who makes an adorable cross as the paper boy?  Extra! Extra! Read all about it!  Local Boy Gets Vociferous Applause!  And wasn't even family!  Each moment had extra energy, extra poignancy.

Between shows, the Director, Assistant Director and Tech Director were given cast photos framed with large white mats the cast signed. Yes, there were a few tears.

An actress shared a yummy recipe with me for "Low Country Cookies."  So good!  I'll admit, I ate the first one and I ate the last one. Who knew they had coconut in the middle?

Our "guardian angel" brought us a treat as well.  Or should I say, "guitarian angel"?  Chuck brought a couple of guitars and jammed with several of the guys.  That bunch was incredible!  Like a lazy afternoon at the Daisy Theater for no particular reason.

The last performance.  The last time, this was said, that worn, everything back to the prop table.  We packed it up as it returned. Show was over far too fast.  While the cast was hugging, the crew was already taking it down.  No one wanted to stay up late.  No one wanted to say good bye.  All of us relieved to be going home.  All of us looking forward to what's next.

Yes, it was a wonderful life.  I have no doubts the best might yet to be.

Ain't No Snipe Hunt

Most people, after a Friday night show during the last weekend of performances, would go out to celebrate and unwind.  Party as it were.  This bunch for "It's a Wonderful Life" as been a wonderful home-body group.  I don't mind.  Tonight I got to stay up late and have fun in an entirely unexpected way.

I got to track down a hawk.

Cynthia M. creates, sets and runs the lighting plot for many Theatre Huntsville shows (as well as for other groups.)  She is trained and talented in this, and her "real" job is do such for various VBC events.  She is also a fabulous friend to animals and a rehabber, of sorts.  (During the spring shows, she'll often have something small and adorable in the booth.)

She was told that two days ago that a hawk flew into the South Hall and had not left.  The raptor was chasing a pigeon dinner that flew in through one of the big loading doors that was open at the time.  It enjoyed its meal, but now it had no idea how to get out and was hiding up on the cat walks.  Oh, and a major event was going to be on Saturday, so did she know how to escort out the uninvited guest?

Cynthia planned to do it after the show, when all of the various people in various parts of the VBC for various reasons would unifiedly be gone.  When I heard her talk of it, I asked if I could come help her. Raptors are such BEAUTIFUL creatures!   It would be a privileged to help one.

She came prepared with a pair of welding gloves, some blankets to hood and calm the bird and a cat carrier, for carrying it out of the building.  She supposed it was the red-tailed hawk that has been living around the VBC for the past three years.  It's usually found near the Concert Hall, across from Big Spring Park.  But, anything can happen when you're thinking about lunch.  Me, I stayed in my back-stage black.  A red suede jacket and a blue bowler didn't seem wildlife appropriate.

I would classify this as an adventure.  I got to see a part of the world I'd never seen before, from the top.  When we arrived at the South Hall, our first job was to reconnoiter from ground level.  This got the attention of one part-time security man.  Here we were, wandering around holding a box to conceal things in, and Cynthia without her badge.  All cool, though, 'cause who would make up a story like our? We didn't see anything remotely avian from the floor, so up to the catwalks.

She directed me through a few doors, and I was surprised at how easy it is access the building facilities.  Not that I, as an honest person, would do so.  Around and around, up the stairs.  I figured I'd more likely get queasy from dizziness than from the height.

It is a different world up on the catwalks.  From the ground, it is lights and metal, a ceiling without the concealment.  But when you're up there, it is secure avenues high, high above the floor.  Conduits that carry wires, air and water.  Miles of cable like well directed rivers. Caged channels creating overpasses for the wiring.  Low girders, wrapped in carpet and bright tape, that STILL connect with foreheads.  Scaffolding and trusses in clean geometrical patterns.  A graveyard of lost helium Mylar balloons.  A world where the denizens keep it tidy for safety, open for access, and the visitors forget their cola cans.

It was fascinating, and not once did I concern myself with the height. It was more secure up there than on the ground.  We split up to scan the ceiling.  With all of the grey metal and straight lines, it should be easy to spot something round with brown feathers.  We quartered the first hall, found nothing, and crossed over to the second.  We wondered, did it leave?  Did it swoop low out a door and was in another part of the building?  Cynthia confirmed that it had come in; she'd seen what it had left of the pigeon it had chased in the first place. Hence, the welder's gloves.

We met up in the far back corner.  I looked up, and there it was, almost over our heads!

What a lovely bird!  And in the last place we looked, too.  It was perched too high above us for us to reach.  Not that it wanted anything to do with us.  You see, it wasn't the red-tailed hawk.  It was a greyish little sharp-shinned.  Very scared.  Every chance it got, it glided away from us on silent wings, keeping as much duct-work between us.  It remembered how it came it.  Its preferred perch was near the wall with the loading doors.  I so wanted to get a photo, but we did not want to tire it out.  It seem to be doing well on its last meal, but too much fly and too much fear would tax it.

We agreed that the best thing to do was to let nature take its course. We came back down from the cat walks and found the regular night guard, AJ.  He turned off all the lights in the hall.  We closed all the doors.  We talked to the head of security to arrange to have the big loading door-  first the exterior, then the interior-- opened with the dawn.  After a dark and quite night, the introduction of natural light should attract the bird. Nature will take over.

Cynthia and I walked back to our cars, chatting about what we love about life and animals.  And agreeing there is no known purpose for cockroaches.  We left with our prayers for the hawk.

From Emily, "Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul."

To Say Goodbye

I went to a funeral today.  I'm of an age now where it is more likely that I'll attend a funeral than a wedding.

A funeral should not be the last place you say goodbye to someone.

Edd H. Balch died unexpectedly last Sunday, November 11.  During his eulogy, it was said that he came to church as usual, sang with the choir, and excused himself after the singing.  Then the ambulances came.  He didn't revive.  He went from singing God's praises on earth to exalting them in heaven.

Edd left earth-bound his wife Elaine, a woman of great forbearance and mirth, and who has also made me some charming costumes.  Also here are his sons Dustin (kindly and conscientious, but also quite a cut-up during "Arsenic and Old Lace,") and Ashley (who, as the local hockey team's PR Manager, made my son's year by giving him a hockey shirt during an Autism Awareness photo shoot.)

These are just the family I know.  But Edd had that talent of making anyone feel like family.

Edd was one of the first to welcome me to and encourage my participation community theater.

First time I met Ed was during the Decatur Arts Council "Stepping Out Follies" fund-raiser.  There he was so soft-spoken and mild, apologizing, if he used the strong word "Dang."  So when he performs this dance number where the costumes are 1/2 guy & 1/2 gal, I was astounded.  He had so much fun, dancing silly and in semi-drag.  That's when I met his mischievous side.

I had the honor to be his Assistant Director for Bank Street Players' production of "Arsenic and Old Lace."  I came recommended by Carol, and Edd was glad for the help.  My car became a rolling props/set dressing cart.  But every rehearsal, he'd help me set it up and put it away.  He'd ask my opinion about the set-dressing, the actors' blocking, the props, the lines.  If someone was absent, I'd step into the rehearsal with voice &1 blocking. I learned much from him about direction. And patience.

The last time I saw Edd was about 9 years ago. He was directing for BSP "Jane Eyre." It was funny that  when there was a sound effect need for a dog backstage, Edd barked.  He was just that kind of guy.

Looking in my Decatur-theater scrapbooks, I could not find a good photo of him to scan.

I did find that at least seven people who were there at the start of my wonderful hobby are now gone. Some way too young, all seemingly too soon.  Edd is just the latest.

Thank you, Edd, for being Edd.  The world has been a bigger, more mirthful place because of you.

Me, Maybe?

Another late night and incorrigible media. So I will share a favorite poem, that I've yet to fully memorize.




Elizabeth

Elizabeth, it surely is most fit
Logic and common usage so so commanding,
In thy own book that first thy name be writ,
Zeno and other sages notwithstanding;
And I have other reasons for so doing
Besides my innate love of contradiction;
Each poet-- if a poet-- in pursuing
The Muses thro' their bower of Truth or Fiction
Has studied very little of his part,
Read nothing, written less-- in short's a fool
Endued with neither soul, nor sense, nor art,
Being ignorant of one important rule,
Employed in even the theses of the school--
Called-- I forget the heathenish Greek name--
Called anything, its meaning is the same,
"Always write first things uppermost in the heart."

-Edgar Allen Poe

Muffins

Got busy and made some muffins.

Yummy! Want one? Make your own.

This recipe is so easy, I've got it memorized.



Choco-Pumpkin Muffins

Beat 3 eggs.
Cream in 1 cup oil and 2 cups sugar or sucralose.
Add 2 cups purée pumpkin and 1 tablespoon vanilla extract.
Mix well.
Mix in 3 cups flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda,
     1/2 teaspoon baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon salt,
     1 tablespoon cinnamon and 1/4 to 3/4 cups cocoa powder.
Mix well but do not over-mix (adding them in thirds helps.)
At the end is a good place to add things like nuts, chocolate chips.
(This batch used too-small-bits-of-Frosted-Flakes for some crunch.)

Temp 325°F
Cook muffins for 25 minutes.
Cook 2 loaf pans an hour.


Enjoy!

Gaaaakkk!

Nuts, I missed it.

Now I must be dishonest and back-date something.

I've kinda got nothing right now.

Lemme' find a picture......

More on her later....

Trying Something New

As I've posted before, my son has Asperger's Syndrome and ADHD. To keep him focused and earth-bound, we rely on medication until he grows up, gets to know himself and physically/mentally matures enough to learn to handle himself.

From kindergarten through second grade, MLB has taken Focalin, a stimulant used to treat ADHD.  It's worked very well, but has left him with a blunted appetite.  He's more than a bit undersized for his age.

I gave him a "vacation" from his meds this summer and he didn't do half badly.  Bouncy, of course, but more social and less anxious. Every now and then I'd give him some Focalin if I feared he'd be socially inappropriate or would drive someone nuts.  But, when I did give him his meds, he'd become "zombie like," and withdrawn.  He'd seem shy and reticent.  He responded like this even on very low doses, like 5 mg or a half of a 5 mg tablet.

Poor kid has always had what I've called "anticipation anxiety."  If he knows something is coming up, he'll get all twitchy.  Most kids do, but they don't get so excited that they hide under tables or wipe their faces off on their mothers' shirts.  Whether it's waiting for a special day to arrive (field trip) or an uncertain sort of day (cleft clinic), he's a handful and not at all calm.  I finally figured this out when he was three, so we refrain from telling him much until the last possible moment.  Yes, talking about something before it happens makes for better transitions, and is encouraged for his "population," but his preemptive moodiness drives us nuts.

With the start of the school year, I thought some changes were in order.  I did my research and MLB's psychiatrist agreed with my request.

First off, Focalin is no longer his primary ADHD medication.  We have him started on Strattera, an SNRI (Selective Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitor.)  Works like the antidepressant SSRIs except on norepinephrine, which seems to have some effect on ADHD.

MLB has responded well to it; he's not sedated, and if he gets derailed, I can redirect him.  It is one of those things that is a constant value in his system, so if we're late with it on a day, or he's over whelmed, we can still give him a bit of Focalin.

Ah, if he's overwhelmed, that's the rub.  Even with his ADHD manageable, he still has his anxiety, and poor social skills to express it.  Which leads to that goofy behavior (made worse when he's tired.) While SNRIs were developed to treat depression, SSRIs are still more effective for depression and the attendant anxiety.  So, after more research and concord with the doctor, we've added Zoloft to the regime, as well.  We've only been on it a few days, and it can take up to six weeks to see full benefits.

Cross your fingers for this.  Meanwhile, some more art!

Christmas Is Sneaking In

Of course, since I'm teching a show titled, "It's a Wonderful Life" and put together its Christmas tree, you would think I might have noticed....

I'll be scooting off to our second performance in a moment, and I won't have much time to write.  So, here's what I found at Hallmark's Holiday Open House.

These are the annual series ornaments for the kids (actually for Mom, since I'm the one who gets to decide which series.)  On the left is DLG's next one in the "Making Memories" series-- "A Sweet Surprise" finding a kitten in the stocking.  The one on the right is MLB's next one in the "Season's Treatings" series--  the snowman cake might inspire him to ask for one.

A "sweet surprise" of a "season's treating" for Mommy!  They had the chocolate chip mix for sampling at the refreshment table.  I might have gotten three helpings, but no can say they saw me do that for sure...  (you know this has got to be yummy when all you've got to do is mix a package of this with a softened brick of cream cheese and a half a stick of softened butter. Oh, my!)

Amazing Kid

MLB has been issued a computer by his school.  A NetBook (specifically,) he'll correct us, but a personal computer nonetheless. He gets more or less unfettered use of it at home, (unless he's in trouble,) so there's no waiting if Mom will let him use her computer. It's loaded up with all sorts of Microsoft programs.

Right now, he is enamored with the "Paint" feature, and gleefully shows me what he's created with the different tools.  He has been astounding me!  Here is the first thing he proudly shared with me:  (it's a cartoon, "not right")

You'll have to admit, it's pretty funny.  I like that he's appreciating puns.  They are sometime hard to "get" by people on the spectrum.

He had his creations scattered all over this Desktop, so I created a folder for him, and in the process of helping move them, I discovered my boy is more of an innate, digital art genius than I could ever imagine!

Here's a few more, with his titles and my observations.

"Bomb" (Made with the shape tool, but shows creativity) 

"Magnet" (free-hand)

Nail (again, tools)

Screw (another free-hand)

"Seeing Stars, #6" (It's amazing how harmonic his color choices are.)

DARKDARKDARKDARKDARKDARKDARK

(again with the innate composition)

Finally this one:

Untitled 1 (wow)

That's my boy. Wow!

Come See This!

It's almost Friday, and I've only got this that can be posted in thirty minutes or less.

Theatre Huntsville's production of "It's a Wonderful Life" open tomorrow, Friday, November 9th and runs for this weekend and next. Show starts at 7:30 p.m. at the VBC Playhouse.

No, I'm not in it. But you'll see my photo up on the lobby display, my thoughts about Christmas, and my name in the program. You'll see a bit of my handiwork, too. Look for Annie's fruit jar of money and the news boy's papers' bag, as well as "Bailey Boarding House" sign. I set the party table and have made repairs to a telephone and a basket. A few small personal items appear with some actresses. I also glued that Christmas tree together so it could be moved and attack someone. But my crowning achievement was the topper for the bushel basket of money.

Utility player on the crew, that's me.

For tickets and for more info on Theatre Huntsville:
www.yourseatiswaiting.org

Thanks for supporting the arts in Huntsville.

My Thoughts on All of This

Once again, we Americans were privileged to elect our president.  As of bedtime, I wasn't sure who it would be.   I tried to avoid all news sources today, even FaceBook, because, in a way, I didn't care about the outcome.

Sounds strange, but hear me out.....

For one thing, I did go vote today.  I make it a point to vote every chance I get.  I believe in getting my say.  It might not be a big enough say to change anything, but it makes me a part of the tradition and gives me at least a participatory leg to stand on if I'm critical of our officials and laws.  I so believe in voting, that I take the children with me, and they look forward to going to the polls.  They've become, I think, more recognized with the workers than I am.

I, myself, was not taken when my parents cast their ballots, but Richard B. Russell Elementary school was a polling place, and those booths with their curtains declared that this was "Grown Up."  I knew, one day, I would see behind that curtain.  Add that I was eight when a president was elected during the Bicentennial, I was thus imprinted.

So if I care so much about voting, why don't I care about the results.

I'm interested, but I don't care.

My vote is private and personal.  I am an independent thinker (which is not the same as an Independent.)  I'll gladly discuss my opinions about what I find promising or lacking in a candidate, platform or statute.  Discuss, mind you.  "Politics," as promulgated by what was formerly a more informative estate, is regrettably saturated with sound bites of polar attitudes.  If no one has noticed, not much but harshness truly lives and thrives at the poles.  But I will not, after my ballot is run, tell you how I voted, and I will not ask you.

These candidates are not my friends and family.  One day, I might personally know and work on behalf of a candidate, in which case I will actually feel I can say, "My candidate," and share in the emotions for election or defeat.  But for the most part, these are things I'm asked to make my personal decision upon, not take it personally.

My decision will be weighed with everyone else's decisions.  Win or lose, pass or fail, I, as a citizen, will follow and support the outcome.  I am a natural-born citizen, so no one has ever asked me to swear my fealty as our blessed Naturalized citizens do.  I give my unspoken oath, just the same.  If I truly disagree and feel that the liberties I am assured will be compromised by the outcome, I have two choices: campaign like crazy to convince everyone to vote with me; OR, go through the proper channels to have the issue and vote recalled.  So far, so good, I haven't had to do either.

Win or lose, the outcome doesn't make me a winner or loser. Unfortunately, too, too many people deeply identify with their candidates of choice, such that they do not want intelligent discussion before a polling (which might foster understanding and a changing of minds;) then if they find "they" have lost, will take it as a rabid and personal affront, or if "they" win, will have a Sherman's March to the inauguration.  Until I run for office, or put forth an issue from my heart, I'll still be me in the morning, thank you kindly.

I will be eager to read the (almost) official results and start hearing how the future will begin to unfold again tomorrow.  But until then, and afterwards, I will not "care."

I've got better things to care about.

Christmas Shopping Got Me Gobsmacked

"My brothers can read a little bit, little words like 'if' and 'it'."
-- Some of the final passages of Dr. Suess's Hop on Pop


Now three-year-old sister can read a little bit, too.

!!!

It's November, so we have "toy catalogs" floating all over the place, and sometimes being squabbled over.  After her brother left for school, DLG took command of the Wal-mart one.  I cooked her egg, while she either told me what she wanted (and why-- "I don't have one!") or asked me what something was.  On the page with the board games, she began telling me she wanted a "Pop the Pig" game.

"What, honey?"  I wasn't sure what I'd heard.

"Yes, mamma, right here,"  she pointed in the middle of the stack.

I hadn't ever heard of it, but it sounded unsavory.  "Pop the Pig?"

"Uh-huh.  Pop the Pig.  Food the pig and watch him get booger until he pops," she read off the tiny box in the middle of the stack of boxes.


The ad-copy was about this size.    


Her young eyes read what her young fingers pointed out.  She came very, very close to the actual text. I had to squint.

"You're right!  'Feed the pig and watch him get bigger until he pops'."

I asked if she'd played this game before or if her teacher or another friend had it.  No..... The kids mainly watch PBS and sports with their dad.  Not likely places for an ad.  Maybe at her grandmother's house?

"Which one is the word 'pig,' the word "pop," the word 'the'."  She pointed them out.

Up until now, we could get her to read certain words for us like, 'go,' 'up,' red,' 'one.'  Stuff she'd seen hundreds of times. This is the first time she'd ever volunteered to read more than one word.

I had my doubts, but they were all shaken when we went to the store after school:

"I know what that word under there is,."

"Under where, dear."

"Under there, that sign.  It's 'food,' f-o-o-d, food.  What's that word beside it?"

Blink. Blink.

So I spelled out & pronounced the funny word 'pharmacy' with her.

Wow, y'all.  Wow.

Back into the Fray

Today has broken my four-day streak of having my post ready the day before for morning auto-publish.

I was up late, back into the fray.  Yes, barely a week off, and I'm doing my theater-thing again.

(Don't judge me.  You know who you are, and you just might be jealous.)

I'm helping as tech crew for "It's a Wonderful Life."  I'm involved for various reasons:  the director Gina came and asked me to help tech-- it'd been far too long since we'd worked together;  I have a soft spot for the play, as it was the first one I'd ever been cast in way back in 1995;  I figured being mere "crew" would be "easy" with no lines to memorize and no leadership to plan.

Backstage, it is as true as on stage; there are no "small parts" and now I know there is no "mere crew."

I ADORE IT.  (I might even love it more than chocolate biscuits.)

Brenda is new to Theatre Huntsville, but eagerly volunteered to be in charge of props.  She's found a splendid trove, but still had some gaps in the inventory.  I'm helping her with those, as well as taking notes on where pre-sets need to be.  I also found the butcher paper for setting up the tables with permanent drop spots.  (It was in the sewing room-- nice to know some things don't change.)

I've made myself two lists of 'things to do' and 'things to acquire.'  One is on my phone and the other is on the envelope of my parking passes.

With all of those notes that I shared with Brenda, she offered to put "being in charge of props" on me because of my experience.  No, no, no.  I'll tell you what I told her and what I'd already had in mind before the directing staff & I found we were of the same mind:  Brenda should be in charge of props because she volunteered and put in the strong point work;  what she had done was excellent for someone whose previous experience was assisting a props person.

Most community theaters are in desperate need of two things, money & man-power.  Sometimes actors are hard to find, but it's harder to find folks willing to do the non-glamorous stuff like being on the board, taking out the trash, answering the phone & being tech crew.  I (and everyone else) are thrilled she has volunteered and has done so well.  The only way to know & grow is to DO.  I told her that I had all of these notes because I was a fresh set of eyes;  she'd been working on it for weeks.  Yes, I have experience, but that's because others before me taught me AND trusted me to be in charge.  She is deserving of the same trust and honor, and I do not want to take that away from her. I'm here to help, and once all of the gaps are closed up, she'll be the bull-dog to chase down actors for pick-ups & returns.  She'll have a few tricks of mine for her future opportunities.

I never want my function to be irreplaceable; we're all replaceable.  I want myself to be indispensable.

Therefore, since there is often little distinction, storage-wise, between props and set dressing, Leslie & I are on that.

I'll be at least swabbing pancake on our 3 dozen actors before the make-up person finishes them.

I'll give a hand (well, both hands) to Lynn & the other Gina with moving set pieces and making sure the traveler doesn't get hung up.

Since the leads' quick changes will also involve prop changes, I'll aid Stephanie with that.

I'll likely even help out with maintaining the body mikes.

I'll stay busy and useful and learn a few new tricks myself.  I'll laugh (quietly) back stage while bonding with cast & crew new to me.

Yes, I will be indispensable.  But I'll be having loads of fun!

Aw, Nuts!

Now I know why every time the wind blows or a squirrel gets frisky, it sounds like my roof is going to come in on me.

We're being shelled, literally.

And no wonder the squirrels are frisky.

The "C" Word

Y'all, I generally don't mind bugs. Insects, specifically, but I tolerate spiders, too. They fill a niche in the world, they have a purpose. They're a part of the circle of life (I keep reminding myself, we won't have dragonflies if they don't have mosquitoes to eat.) Live & let live, sort of. If they're outside, they're where they belong. If they're inside, they're fair game for the hunt; Scott is all about slaying them, while I prefer catch-and-release. We even have tools that make us good at what we do: he has an electric bug racquet for wasps and other large creepies and I have have the bug jars from my kids. Either way, we keep the house occupants bipedal.

But there is one bug I loath. Of the myriad scavengers, those unattractive crawlies that consume our garbage & compost, there is one I will not abide. Do we not have pill bugs, millipedes, centipedes and crickets a plenty? (All I care not much for.)

Why do we need-- shudder-- cockroaches?
(There, I've said it. Sorry, Tanja.)

I've never liked them. They are creepy and gross. Sneaky, too, nor a respecter of personal space. I don't care if they are capable of surviving a nuclear Armageddon. So will kudzu and Twinkies, big deal. I find no point for the "c-word."

There was a bug under the bookshelf in my sixth grade classroom. I thought it was a cricket, and tried to help catch it. When it scuttled out and proved to be the-other-thing, I think my scream gave the PE coach a heart attack, and he was on the other side of the pod. Years later, one had the audacity to scuttle across the floor while I was baby sitting; I sprayed it with window cleaner, then with the bug spray (I was watching out for the kids,) finally resorting to smashing it with my shoe-- the demon insect kept crawling with its guts hanging out. Arrrgh!!!!!! Now, as a high-demand sitter, I'd handled many crises quite calmly. I resorted to calling my brother over to handle the final dispatch.

I cannot stand them.

So where did I go to college? Auburn University. Home of cockroaches so big & so aggressive that students from Louisiana and Florida were impressed. Not only that, those suckers flew.  Technically, they are "Palmetto Bugs." We don't HAVE palmetto in the area, so I blame some ag student in the past for accidentally importing it. I don't care. I just want them GONE. They eat everything. Plastic wire insulation is a fav dessert of theirs. Horror is waking up late for class because your alarm clock doesn't work and you can see the body of the culprit trapped against the lurid glow of the digital display. Just not right.

At Auburn, I learned: if you are alone in a room, it is useless to scream at one. That only gives it advanced warning. It'll fly right at you and laugh at your vain attempts to swat at it with a broom. (Wish that poster could have laughed about it... sorry.) I'll go on a stealth offensive, if there's no other recourse. My preferred method of destruction is to scream loudly as I jump up on some furniture; I can usually summon someone else within a 30 foot radius to do the deed.

My brother recommends a can of Raid. And a match. (No, he refrained from that during the baby-sitting rescue. But his method has a vengeful appeal.)

So there. Something I dislike, loath, abhor, despise, detest and just out-right can't stand-- nay, just plain hate.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A whimsical note, I took a walk at the Botanical Gardens on Friday. The day had warmed up delightfully. Staying indoors would have been a sin. All sorts of six-legged things were buoying about, especially pairs of butterflies in their last hopeful, enamored dances.

As I approached the gazebo, I could see quite a few things buzzing about a trellis. Bigger than gnats, smaller than wasps. Thinking they might be honey bees out for a final hurrah, I tried to focus on one, only to realize they were flying polka-dots glowing red. Ladybugs! Oodles! They'd been lured out of their hibernation. With so many, it was easy to have one alight on my hand. Not so easy to take a picture of it as it scurried along. Even less easy when it became three, eight, twenty conveniently landing on me. Left arm, right arm, shirt, pants. I watched one hang from my bangs. Maybe there were too many ladybugs. The ticklish legs weren't a problem, but one of them wondered if my arm tasted like aphid.... party over. Shoo, shoo! (I got odd looks from others in the glen.)

I was almost out of the garden when I felt something at my shoulder. A straggler. It perched a moment on my sweater.

Shoo to you, too.

The "Favorite" Returns

Since the month has just started, and since I have no fresh pictures loaded, I was casting about for today's topic. I think I might have been divinely inspired. Hmm.. Here goes, but first, background.

When I first started blogging, an IRL friend who blogged did something she called "Friday Favorites," and encouraged us to write about something that we liked or moved us, then to link up with her post so we could share the happiness. She is now a successful business woman with a home-based enterprise (and a riotously adorable family,) so she has no time to write, instead expressing herself through her fun fabric creations.

But it's Friday, so I'll write about something that inspired me. (No, no linky-linky app, y'all. That would require too much thinking, and my computer gets cranky this late at night. It will be peeved that I will open FB simultaneously for just a moment. Pardon.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Approach dawn softly from the other side," Rod Smith sympathized with me as I once again turned in a slightly overdue writing assignment I stayed up all night to complete. I am NOT a morning person, in that I do not wake up easily or joyously. But once awake (or otherwise, before retiring,) I find dawn a fascinating place. It is so alive in a peaceful sense. I resolve to take a moment there more often.

Today, I emerged from the house early to drive to my daughter to Decatur. My return found me at one school or the other on behalf of my children. I felt the day move through the morning, up to noon, and then settle slowly towards dusk. Words of mine, for a friend disenheartened:

"(I think of Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3.) Today is soft upon our cheeks and we can set aside the jackets til eve'n. This morning the chill laughed lightly about us, while we amazed at the first frost that enchanted the fields, the rising river of mist that cloaked the water. A man? A dog? No, a mild buck and a doe that crossed the road, they unconcerned with neither man nor dog, but on their own hunt for the rich acorns that fall now. Look, raise your eyes, be blessed with the quilt of autumn color spread out upon the trees, across the mountains. Things change. Some we perceive, some we understand, some we know. But at the heart, life is a mystery-- joy and comfort where we find it. If not found today, may you be surprised when you stroll through your memories."

I love each season, in its season. Now is the true season of hope, as we make our harvests, and from this, plan again for the coming year.

Fall has come to us, and I will exalt in it.

NoBloPoMoDitto

Once again, it is my November observation of National Blog Post Month. I will try to provide fresh material  daily-- snippets of my life, my thoughts, my hopes and my past. I'll vary my content, add photos, even attempt to embed media. But please forgive me if there are more articles than you'd prefer about my kids or my community theater experiences; this is my life-- be glad I don't own a cat.

Can you do me a favor? I will attempt to amuse you afresh every day. Will you attempt to comment at least once on a post this month? I'll give to you 30 days; is one day from you to me too much to ask? I think I've got this set up so anyone can comment, even anonymously; if comments are "broken," let me know (Well, if comments are broken, then you'll have to let me know via Facebook or email. Duh on me.)

I ask this because I need an audience. I write for me, myself, but I would like to connect with YOU. I think most of you readers are friends and relations, then there are the friends and relations of the friends and relations, not to forget a few of you who stumbled here and have decided to stay.

Let me know who you are, what you like/dislike, where you're from, how you found me, your favorite color. Pick a day or pick a topic, then start a dialogue with me. I'll be glad you did, and glad to be able to thank you for reading.

See you again on Friday.